


One More Chance XXXII

by DancingHare



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingHare/pseuds/DancingHare
Summary: Vajarra continues her search.





	One More Chance XXXII

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published January 12, 2009

Malcos didn’t bother to keep hidden after that, rather he rode a few lengths behind her on the trail, sullen and silent. Now and then he would try to start a conversation, but it inevitably turned to the same subject: What was she doing here? Vajarra thought that he must know, but he wanted to hear her say it aloud; instead, she would snap the ram’s reins and urge him into a lazy trot. And though she guessed that Malcos kept a watch at night — he told her of dangerous animals, creatures, and walking dead that roamed these lands — each morning she found a note, tucked neatly in her belongings. On the first morning, it was in Sada’s saddlepack, but sometimes it would be in her own pack, and once, unnervingly, beneath her sleeping roll. She kept them hidden from Malcos of course, tucked safely into the pocket in her cloak. They were brief, and to the point, but a few encouraging words. He signed them all the same way:  _I’ll see you soon_.

She led them to a trail that wound its way up the craggy side of a mountain, the stark black rock frosted with snowdrifts, and finally Malcos spoke up again. He squinted up toward the crag, reining back his horse, who was puffing and snorting in the knee-deep snow. “Enough of this, Vajarra, we are going back.”

“You can go back if you like,” she said, not bothering to look back at him. “But I am not done here.”

Malcos urged his horse forward, pulling up beside her. “Yes, you are. Let’s go,” he growled, taking hold of Sada’s bridle.

“Stop it, Malcos! Why won’t you just go away?” She was tired of him following her around, tired of his dire warnings and tired of him telling her what to do.

“This isn’t a game, Vajarra. Do you know what can happen to you if you die here?” More dire warnings, but she thought she could see real fear beneath his grave expression. What could Malcos possibly be afraid of?

She shrugged, trying to tug Sada’s reins back, but he held them tightly. “Yes, if I die I’ll go and join the naaru,” she said shortly, glaring at him again.

“No,” Malcos answered flatly, and he gestured down to the fields far below them, where the walking dead clamored over one another, teeming over the ground. “If you die here, you’ll turn into one of those. A rotting husk, obeying the Lich King’s command.”

They were horrible to look at, but Vajarra had to see, if only to prove him wrong. There were so many, how could they be travelers like herself? But they were far away, and the decay had claimed many of them, and it made her shiver to look at them too long. “That’s not true,” she said at last, stepping back from the ledge. He was only trying to control her again, to scare her back to the safety of the temple.

“It is true, I assure you. And if you die, you won’t have any say in the matter. So let’s get out of here, now.” Malcos gave the ram’s bridle a tug, starting to turn him back down the steep trail.

“For the last time, Malcos, stop butting in and –” Vajarra felt the mountain shudder beneath her, and blinked accusingly at Malcos. He cocked a puzzled look back at her, ready to voice his protest, when the mountain rushed down upon them. Above them, the sheer cliff face had shivered loose of its coating of snow, and it now fell over them like a wave, dragging the rocks and trees with it. Vajarra sat, frozen in awe, as the avalanche bore down upon them. Fortunately, Sada’s instincts were swift, and the grey ram bolted into a lurching gallop, mindless of either his bridle, or his rider. Vajarra thought she heard Malcos shouting something, but the sound was buried by the rushing snow. She clung fervently to the ram’s back as it leapt over the crags, squinting her eyes shut tightly whenever she felt his hooves scrabbling dangerously on the stones. All around them, the mountainside was in motion, rushing downward at a dizzying speed. Sada made a wild, desperate leap, and Vajarra felt the snow tugging at his hooves, the worn leather of his saddle’s cinch as it gave way and snapped. She landed with an unhappy thump on the ground, watching helplessly as the ram went on, the saddle still hanging off his side. Vajarra stood, shivering, and spotted a large tree a little way down the slope. Maybe she could hide there until the snow settled. Above her, the cliffside rumbled ominously again, and she hurried through the snow, panting little clouds of breath. The snow was deep and her little hooves were not meant to run across it, and her ankles were freezing despite the warmers she had put on them. When she reached the tree, she put her arms around it, partly for balance but partly in gratitude. Here, at least, she might have an anchor should the snow start to move again. She slumped down against the trunk, in the sweet-smelling ground underneath the boughs, and re-tied the straps of her pack. All of her belongings still seemed to be there, and she patted the inside of her cloak cautiously, but the letters were there, too.

But she could neither see nor hear the night elf, and she couldn’t be exactly sure where they were standing before, so she let her eyes roam across the entire cliffside until the brightness of the snow began to hurt. Vajarra was alarmed to discover that her first feeling was relief, rather than worry. He was fine, she assured herself, he was trained in combat and he knew what to do in times like these. She couldn’t stay here, or he would find her, though. Vajarra rubbed her hooves to try to warm them, and she crept out from behind the tree, searching for another place to take cover. She spotted it further down the slope, a large dark outcropping of rock. At the very least, she could take cover there overnight, for the afternoon sky was already turning grey, and night would be upon her soon. Maybe this night, she could stay awake and finally see Istahn at last.

The rock outcropping hid the entrance to a cavern that opened deep into the heart of the mountain, its cool still breath making Vajarra shiver. Still, it was shelter and would be warmer than the cliffside, especially if she could manage to make a fire. The cave floor was damp, but there were some raised places that would be dry enough for her to spread out her bedroll. She could hear things, far away in the darkness, dripping water or the skitter of small creatures, and a low howling that sounded very much like a voice. Vajarra spread out her bedroll, untying her blanket and wrapping herself in it as she sat watching the cave entrance, as the patch of sky outside turned grey, then purple, and finally to the deep starless blue of night. The absolute darkness made the cave’s sounds take on an eerie tone, and she was certain that she could hear a voice, far away, calling her name.


End file.
